


Punishment

by blithelybonny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Caning, Humiliation, M/M, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius has failed the Dark Lord, and he must be punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Taboo Kink Fest](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/87393.html) at hp-darkarts on LiveJournal.

I look into Lucius’s eyes, and he quivers. He is weak. He has always been weak. Azkaban has broken his already fragile sense of worth, but I do not care. He has failed me, and therefore he must be punished.

It would be nothing at all to ruin him. One does not need Legilimency to be able to read him to know what would hurt him the most. It is so obvious, it rolls off him in waves. Whenever I so much as look at his beloved son, Lucius shatters. I suspect it may have more to do with his innate pure-blood desire to continue his line, than the love of a father for a son, but Draco is the key nonetheless.

Fathers are such fickle things.

“Draco, come to me,” I say, and I can feel Lucius’s tension from across the circle. I am not yet certain what I will do, but Lucius’s fear thrills me. I can feel, for the first time in such a long time, my cock stirring. I have always enjoyed the fear of others. “Do not dawdle, my boy,” I continue. 

I can smell his terror. I will pull a scream from him.

\-- -- -- --

Draco does not cry prettily, which is such an odd thing. His mother is ice, and her tears fall quietly, her expression just barely above neutral with fear. I believe Draco is much more like his mother than his craven father, but he has not inherited her ice. He is an open, weeping, hideous book. It disgusts me, this emotion.

I will crush it out of him yet. I will crush it from them both.

Lucius stands at the edge of the bed. I hand him my robes and glare until he thanks me for the privilege of sharing in this event. His eyes unfocus as I run my hands down the pale expanse of Draco’s back. “Lucius, you would do well to watch,” I say, tone firm, but soft.

Draco quivers, whimpers--I pick up Lucius’s cane and bring it down, hard, against the back of the boy’s upper thighs, just under the curve of his pale, young arse. Draco screams. He is terrible with pain. He will make a terrible follower.

He does not understand that love is pain. But Lucius knows. He knows well.

\-- -- -- --

They let Potter get away. I cannot abide their foolishness and stupidity. They are weak, all of them, but Lucius most of all. He cannot keep his house, and he cannot control his son.

I wrap my fingers around Draco’s throat, and he swallows hard against my hands. I squeeze. His eyes widen, and he reaches up to try to stop me. His fingers scrabble at mine. He draws blood, but still harder I steal his breath.

“My Lord, please!” Lucius shouts, straining against the bonds I have placed around his hands and feet. “My Lord, it isn’t his fault! He couldn’t have known! He couldn’t have been sure! Please, you’re--God, you’re killing him!”

My cock fills to hear him scream. How I have missed this.

\-- -- -- --

Lucius mutters soothing endearments into his son’s ear, as he rubs one of Severus’s pain salves onto the bruises I have left. It makes me want to vomit, especially when Draco sniffles and curls into Lucius, as if Lucius can save him. Lucius can do nothing. He is nothing.

I am everything.

“Draco, do not be troubled,” I say, as I walk forward. He stiffens visibly in his father’s arms when I take a seat on the bed. “You have proven yourself to be such a good boy.” I am lying. He is a rotten boy, a horrible child and, as I had suspected, a completely useless addition to my fold.

“Your father,” I continue, casting my eyes on Lucius’s, “on the other hand, continues to let me down. Do you know why that is, Draco?”

He does not answer; of course, he does not answer. He is useless. “Speak when you are spoken to, Draco. I will not ask again.”

“I--I don’t--I don’t know, my--my Lord,” he replies and runs his fist beneath his nose to collect the snotty mess there. He wipes it on the bed-sheet. He is disgusting, just like his father.

“Because he is a fool,” I say. I tug him forward by the chin and, at his visible recoil, I smile. I press my lips to his. He tastes of blood.

\-- -- -- --

I tear a strip of skin off Draco’s upper thigh. His agony is music to my ears, not because he deserves it, but because every scream is like a dagger into Lucius’s foolish, weak heart. Lucius deserves it.

“When I kill Harry Potter, you will not be able to witness it,” I say, calmly. “I have not yet decided,” I tear another strip, “whether to tear out your eyes or just kill you outright.”

I will not do either. As angry as I am with Lucius, I am not so blind as I may sometimes seem. I know my numbers are dwindling.I know the pieces are being destroyed. Potter is more capable than I gave him credit for. I will need Lucius, however weak, when the time comes. I will need Draco too.

But Lucius must understand. He must know that he is mine, and mine alone. He must do as I say. Or he will be punished.

**Author's Note:**

> Return to LJ [HERE](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/92240.html?mode=reply#add_comment) to comment, if you like!


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